Remembrance & Bear Butte

I have been to many Sturgis Rally's.  After having  been to the 75th Anniversary of Sturgis in 2015, it was hard for me to imagine how I could ever go back.  If I did,  it would be nearly impossible, to even come close to topping how much fun I had by myself.
 In all seriousness, I had doubts that I would be back, at least not any time soon. But then a few things changed, which opened up my schedule. Then I had an epiphany.
 I had began to think of what I really

would want to do if I did go back, and what I might do once I was there.
 It had came to me as soon as I realized, I'd be going alone, once again. What had occurred was I had put this in the back of my mind, and I had forgotten about it.  For some reason it was as if now it would be the right time. The past several years others had kept me from going.  and although I had been there, twice before, I could easily have treated it like "been there and done that". But this was different, for whatever reason.  I felt the need and I really wanted to return to the top or what they called the "Observation Deck" of Bear Butte.

Bear Butte is a sacred Indian mountain, located just outside of Sturgis, South Dakota. It is considered part of the Black Hills. Besides it being a Native American Territory it's also considered a state park. It has a rich history that many Americans don't know about, nor seem to understand.

As I pulled my 'O1 Harley up to the guard shack, and stopped at the entrance of the park to pay for the day pass, there were three male Native American Park Rangers there to greet me.
I asked, "How much?   I am going to the top, to the observation deck."  As I paid the required four dollars, I mentioned that this was my first time back since the fire. What happened next sent me into a state of mind that still affects my outlook. Three of the rangers looked wide eyed and puzzled as they turned looking at each other before the elder turned to me and said, and I quote, "That fire was back in August of '96", then he said, "That's been 20 years ago". Those words echoed in my mind. I felt as if I had been asleep this entire time and suddenly been awakened. I was stunned, perhaps in shock for a moment. I was having my own Rumpelstiltskin  moment.   It had never occurred to me, I knew it had been awhile but.... Where had 20 years gone?

I tucked the license ticket between my dash and the windshield as I headed on up towards the lodge. I found a nice shaded area to park under a large pine tree. Grasping my camera, I looked and remembered I hadn't brought any water with me.

As I started the assent, the wind would cool and dry my perspiration each time I would pause to catch my breath.
Occasionally, I'd stop to let my heart slow enough before I'd continue on with the climb. One of the few things I did remember from my earlier trips up was that it had taken more than an hour and a half and about a hour and a quarter the next time I had reached the summit.
My thirst grew as I looked at the large chunks of broken granite.

I had gotten a sip of water at the fountain not far from the start of the trail. But that was also before trail had gotten very steep. What little bit of dirt that could be seen was as if it were the dry creek troughs where the trail had been aligned with wooden ties to help with preventing erosion. I was amazed at the detail and the great lengths of work that the rangers had gone through to keep the trail open.

Along the way, aligning the trail, were podiums with photos and pictures of the different animals, reptiles, and vegetation found on the grounds. It also included warnings.

 I had passed a small group of people that were resting under some shade of a pine tree, just about where the trail became very steep. I acknowledged them as I continued on. I believe they were turning back. The climb was not for the faint of heart, or for those that were not in shape.  As I would stop from time to time, I began noticing some of the differences from my earlier trips. There were veins of colored stone that reminded me of what looked like an avalanche. Instead of snow, it was granite rock. There were many dead trees littering the hillside.

Strangely enough I could see no evidence that there had been a fire whatsoever. It was rather disappointing seeing only a few new pine trees growing where there had been so many before. After seeing all the busted granite, it became easier to understand what had been happening. I had heard that the mountain had glowed for two weeks after the fire. I can only imagine the amount of swelling and cracking of the stone. Knowing the extremes of weather that is common for that area. Surely the rains had caused a lot of freezing and thawing that had contributed to the way it had now become.

As I continued my ascent, I met a few men on their way down. The last one claimed that it would be much steeper ahead. Only to find the last 20 or 30 feet to the observation deck to be almost straight up. It had some tie steps and a minimal amount of hand railing. I felt victorious when I had reached the top.

At first glance, the Observation deck looked as if it had been untouched from the fire, but in twenty years, it also could of looked the same. There was nearly a clear 360 degree panoramic unobstructed view that by itself was spectacular.

But now came the real reason I had come all this way, and the reason for this years trip. I got down on My knees and prayed to The Almighty. We all at one time or another question our morality. Our place in this world, our lives, and the results of our actions. There had been so many things that have taken place and that have changed over time.

 I had been asked when the time came and I would pass away/die what my wishes would be. At first my immediate thoughts were of a vision of the place that I felt the closest to heaven. Rather than having my body buried in a coffin, in the ground, of some local cemetery. I spoke out against that idea, and instead said that I would rather be cremated, and have my ashes spread from the top of Bear Butte.
When I got up from my knees, I sat down on one of the two wooden  benches that were provided on the observation deck. As I sat there a moment trying to regain my composure, I looked at my watch and realized it had been less than an hour since starting the climb. There was a sound in the distance,

that could be heard. It was getting louder as it got closer. It was a Helicopter that flew overhead. Just as quickly as it came, it went away.
 It took me back to the first time I was there, looking out in the distance. I had been there alone, that time too.
Sitting quietly in the solitude and serenity of this sacred place, I was remembering the sound of the wind blowing. I had been recording the fantastic view with my video camera, doing what I suppose most tourist would do. I had just stopped recording and had put the camera away,  when I noticed something moving, off in the distance. Slowly it appeared and would disappear from sight, as it moved closer. I stood froze, as if locked in place while watching.  Eventually, it became clearer,  and I could see that it was a hawk as it flew directly over head.
 I had not been able to record it.  Immediately I had the impression ,or perhaps the insight, of a thought that, some things are just not meant for everyone else to see.
What was even more astonishing was later.
While visiting with some co-workers at their campsite nearby, I was sitting in a lawn chair watching their campfire as it cracked and popped. It was a blazing fire for being so late at night. The wind was calm and although there were no trees anywhere close by, it was as if out of the sky came this large Hawk feather. It zig-zagged as it floated down softly and landed right beside me. Somehow, I knew that this was not just a coincidence.

My conscious thoughts were soon interrupted, as I turned and a group of people had made it up onto the Observation Deck. I sat quietly observing each. Later I offered my assistance in helping taking pictures so that everyone could be included in their photos. In over hearing them, it was clear to me that they had no idea what Bear Butte was, or what it represented. They had no idea of the history of the area and that saddened me.
 I took out a cigar that I had purchased on the way there that morning. I had also stopped for matches, but that's something they don't have anymore. (Especially at Full Throttle but that is another story.) It was difficult, but I sat silently for awhile in thoughtful prayer.  Realizing perhaps another purpose for me being there and for what I needed to do. We all need to share the things that help one another. That includes the knowledge to guide others, to help them move forward, and to grow in the spirit. Some time had passed. It appeared everyone had rested and taken in all they could of the view. They had taken dozens of pictures.

Then slowly like a trickle one by one each went back down the trail.  As I relite the cigar , I couldn't help but notice an older native women looking off into the distance, in silent distress. She spoke softly saying she had her son and his 3 year old daughter with her. She said that she had another son, then sobbed, that he had committed suicide. Both of her two sons had always enjoyed being there each year and that she found peace by coming there in remembrance. I took out a bandanna from my back pocket that I had brought with me. Without having a knife or a sharp enough object to start a tear, I took the cigar and burnt an edge to be able to tear off a strip. After a few minutes the cigar went out and I wrapped it and tied it off. Leaving a gift of tobacco and saying a prayer as I tied it off to one of the trees nearby. Saying "Peace be with you" to the elder woman as I left and headed back, descending from the deck, heading down the trail. There were several more people making their way up and I mentioned to each, "It did my heart good to see so many making the trek."

It was as I was coming down that I met up with a female carrying a walking staff and a backpack. I spoke to her saying, " You look like you have come totally prepared", She nodded and said yes. I mentioned the fact that this was my first time back since before the fire, not realizing it at the time.  I asked how long had it been for her? She said "Yesterday". As I walked closer I could see she was one of the Park Rangers. It also came as somewhat of a surprise to me to find out from her that all of the 4 x 4 pine ties that aligned nearly every foot of the entire trail had been brought up or carried by hand individually and had not been air lifted as I had originally thought. It stunned and surprised me to think of the physical condition that someone would have to be in for such an undertaking. Plus the amount of dedication to work doing that so others like me could experience Bear Butte.

As I got on my 'O1 Harley, and rode out of the state park, back into Sturgis for the rest of the '76th Motorcycle Rally.  I was feeling somewhat relieved, while at the same time I had had a Soul Cleansing. I will return to Bear Butte one day, if not on my motorcycle, then as ashes.

May you all find peace, and once you have, then help guide others so they may find it too. A'ho